Shadows Below Deck

The days aboard The Abyss had taken on a steady rhythm, each one blurring into the next as Jacob settled into his new role on the ship. But beneath the surface, tensions simmered. The crew was on edge, their unease exacerbated by the mysterious circumstances surrounding Marcus's injury. Whispers circulated among the men, and though they kept their distance from Jacob, he could feel their suspicion growing.

It wasn't until the fourth night after Marcus's fall that the tension finally snapped.

Jacob had spent the evening on deck, overseeing the crew's tasks and ensuring everything was in order. The night was calm, the sky clear and studded with stars, the only sounds the creaking of the ship and the gentle lapping of waves against the hull. Despite the tranquility of the scene, Jacob felt a sense of unease gnawing at him, a tension that he couldn't quite shake.

As he made his rounds, his thoughts kept returning to Marcus. The man's fate had hung in the balance for days, and Jacob couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he died. Would it come back to him? Would the crew turn on him, convinced that he had somehow caused the injury? These questions weighed heavily on his mind as he moved about the ship.

Suddenly, the quiet of the night was shattered by a low, pained moan that echoed up from below deck. Jacob froze, his heart leaping into his throat. The sound was unmistakable—it was coming from the infirmary, where Marcus had been recovering. His instincts screamed at him to go and check, but something held him back, a cold dread that rooted him to the spot.

The moan came again, louder this time, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. Dr. Matthias, the ship's doctor, appeared at the top of the stairs, his expression grim as he made his way toward the infirmary. Jacob watched as the doctor descended into the darkness, his movements tense and purposeful.

Unable to resist any longer, Jacob followed, keeping a safe distance as he made his way down the narrow corridor. The air below deck was thick and stifling, the smell of blood and sweat clinging to the wooden walls. He could hear the murmurs of the crewmen who had gathered around the infirmary door, their voices hushed and nervous.

When Jacob finally reached the infirmary, he stood just outside the doorway, his back pressed against the wall. From his vantage point, he could see Dr. Matthias bent over Marcus's prone form, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he checked the man's pulse and breathing.

"Hold on," Dr. Matthias muttered, his voice barely audible. "Come on, damn it…"

Marcus's eyes fluttered open, but there was no recognition in them—only pain and fear. He tried to speak, his voice a rasping whisper, but the words were incoherent. Dr. Matthias leaned in closer, trying to make out what Marcus was trying to say.

"Cursed… that… boy…" Marcus croaked, his hand weakly clutching at the doctor's sleeve. But before he could say anything more, Marcus's body convulsed, his breath hitching. Dr. Matthias worked frantically, trying to stabilize him, but it was too late. With a final shudder, Marcus's grip slackened, and his eyes glazed over as death claimed him.

Jacob's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't expected to feel anything at Marcus's death, but there was a strange sense of finality in the air, as if something profound had just occurred. And then, a voice—a voice that had become both familiar and unsettling—whispered in his mind.

[Soul count increased by 1. Current total: 1 soul.]

Jacob's eyes widened as the words registered. He had collected a soul, just as the system had said. But what did it mean? Was this what it felt like to gain power, to take life and turn it into something that could fuel his abilities?

Before he could dwell on it, the system spoke again, its tone calm and matter-of-fact.

[As you collect souls, your power will grow. Each soul you gather increases your Necrotic Focus, allowing you to use your abilities with greater efficiency. When you reach 10 souls, you will achieve Level 1, enhancing your mental stamina and unlocking new capabilities.]

Jacob's thoughts raced. Ten souls to reach the first level. He was more than halfway there, but the realization of what that meant sent a chill down his spine. He would have to continue gathering souls—continue killing, directly or indirectly—to grow stronger. It was a dark, dangerous path, but the system made it clear that it was the only way forward.

As the gravity of the situation sank in, Jacob felt a twisted sense of resolve harden within him. He had been thrust into this world, given powers that demanded a price. If he was to survive, he would have to embrace this dark gift, use it to his advantage, and climb his way to the top. There was no turning back.

Just as these thoughts began to crystallize, Jacob heard footsteps approaching. He quickly moved away from the infirmary, slipping into the shadows just as Elias appeared. The quartermaster's expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a tension in his posture that spoke of concern.

"How is he?" Elias asked, his voice low as he stepped into the infirmary.

Dr. Matthias shook his head, his face lined with fatigue. "He's gone. His injuries were too severe, and whatever happened to him down in the hold… it finished him off."

Elias's gaze flicked briefly to Marcus's lifeless body, then back to the doctor. "Did he say anything before he died?"

The doctor hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "He mentioned something about a curse… and a boy. But it's hard to say what he meant. His mind was failing."

Elias's eyes narrowed. "Jacob?"

"It's possible," Dr. Matthias admitted. "But without more evidence, it's just a dying man's ramblings."

The quartermaster stood in silence for a long moment, considering his options. Jacob watched from the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he was on thin ice—if Elias decided to act on his suspicions, things could get dangerous very quickly.

"Keep this quiet," Elias finally said. "We'll tell the crew Marcus passed from his injuries. No need to start rumors."

Dr. Matthias nodded, returning to his work as Elias left the infirmary, his expression grim. As the quartermaster's footsteps faded into the distance, Jacob let out a slow breath, the tension in his body easing slightly.

But the sense of danger lingered. Marcus's death had marked a turning point, a step further down the dark path the system had laid out for him. He couldn't afford to slip up now—every move he made would be scrutinized, every decision potentially leading him closer to power or destruction.

With a heavy heart, Jacob returned to his quarters, his mind buzzing with the system's words. Ten souls to reach Level 1. It seemed both too close and too far away, but he knew that he would need to gather them if he was to survive in this brutal world.

As he lay down to sleep, the events of the night played over and over in his mind. The system had shown him the path, but it was up to him to walk it. And he would—no matter the cost.